Our pub has become something of a hide out, only accessible by a set of steep stairs up from the boardwalk or down a never-ending staircase from the street level above. The town, in its infinite wisdom, pushed by an insurance company I’m sure, has removed the connecting ramp between the wharf and the building along with the pub’s front entrance, even though the ramp could hold a herd of elephants and more than the single vehicle traffic into the underground garage. It was built of steel beams and solid timbers. Now the garage is an empty inaccessible space and the patrons like Camp and I have to clamber down or up a steep flight of stairs. ‘Not exactly wheelchair accessible,’ Camp pointed out. 

‘We went to see ‘One Love’ last week, the Bob Marley movie about the last few years of his roller coaster life that was cut short at only 36 years by a rare form of skin cancer. The mediocre film was produced by Brad Pitt, Rita and Ziggy Marley,’ I said, once I got comfortable in my old corner chair.

‘Oh yeah, how was that? I love the music but the man? One Love could have been named Many Loves,’ Camp said. ‘Didn’t he have a soccer team full of kids from many different women?’